Tag Archives: writing

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The Small Moments

Centennial Park, Nashville

Four generations in Centennial Park

A screened porch during a thunderstorm.

Turning the music up, and turning it up again.

Pulling the car over to dance in the middle of the street.

Seeing that it’s a letter, not a bill.

When the flowers at the office are for you.

Kissing him the first time and thinking, I will write this down.

Hearing them for the first time and thinking, I will buy the whole album.

Shaving your legs in a river.

Seeing your name in print.

Laughing louder than anyone else in the room.

Crossing a finish line at the end of 13.1 miles.

Ordering a bloody mary in an airport bar.

Bicycling to the top of a very steep hill.

Flinging your shoes off from the middle of the dance floor.

Good lives are often boldest in their smallest moments.

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The opportunity in loss

The people who are the best at something – the most knowledgable experts, the most passionate lovers – had to forsake other endeavors to get there.

Did you know Tony Hawk gave up the violin to ride a skateboard?

Among word people, most of us lean toward writing or editing.

The most committed and deeply talented had to turn some things down, make some choices, focus.

Or so we assume.

Continue reading →

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She Takes the Road Less Traveled By

Lily was concerned she’d get a bad grade on her writing assignment because, as she put it, “I didn’t do it the same way as everybody else”.

A couple years ago, she turned in a social studies project that was radically different from the other kids’, and rather than praise her creativity, her teacher knocked off a few points for not following rules.

I’m glad she is the sort of kid who can put perspective to a sucker punch.

She turned in her “different” take on the latest assignment, and this year’s teacher praised it as being “a very creative way of writing the story.” Exclamation point. Smiley face.

Lily was excited for me to read her story about the Underground Railroad, which she told from three different characters traveling via a time machine. While I was impressed with her choice of narrative technique, I was truly moved by her willingness to go with it regardless of what kind of grade she might get.

I love this line, from the perspective of someone helping the escaping slaves: “I had never felt genuinely risky. Twists and turns, I loved this feeling. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I felt fearless. I wouldn’t get caught. I just knew I wouldn’t.”

That’s my girl.

I asked her to help me write about bravery. Continue reading →

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Internet bullies vs the people who really count

When I blog, I learn more about the important things – family, friends, community, faith – by reflecting on life’s pleasures – gardening, music, running, travel.

Writing here has brought me joy and clarity, many times over. Last night, though, it delivered a nasty little shock.

From the admin panel of my blogging software, I can tell at a glance what words people type into Google to find my blog. My name (and misspellings of it) are the most common. Other common search terms include topics I’ve written “how to” posts about: i.e., “how to make window frame pictures”, “test tube holders for flower arrangements” and “best way to see Taj Mahal”.

I have a working understanding of Search Engine Optimization, the science of making it easier to find stuff via Google, so none of this is surprising.

What did startle me are two phrases someone Googled in the past week:

Continue reading →

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The One Thing vs. The Whole Thing

Guest appearance at Lipscomb. I was invited by Dr. Jimmy McCollum, who serves on The Tennessean's Advisory Board.

“I’m a journalist. I work at The Tennessean. I’m in charge of The Tennessean’s websites.”

This is how I’d answer questions like, “And what do you do?”

A strong community brand had become my own personal identity, and the rest of the things that could have made me a better, richer person were neglected at the expense of my professional goals. Continue reading →

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She set fire to her diaries; I’d run into a burning house for mine

The bulletin board at my desk is decorated with postcards from my friends, a favorite writer (Jonathan Franzen - second from the left) and myself.

If it is personal, I keep it. Even if it’s painful or embarrassing, often if it’s silly.

My penny loafers from high school. (It was the early 90s, the grunge era, and everyone else wore Doc Martins.)

Postcards: I have a sweet handful from friends in other states, another handful my grandparents bought during their honeymoon, and one that the novelist Jonathan Franzen sent me in response to a letter I wrote him last spring. (I have a copy of my letter to him, too, of course.)

Notes passed in class during junior high school. Thank you cards from colleagues and employees. Funny, sweet or complimentary emails in an Outlook folder labeled “Things I Should Keep”.

Photographs. Mine. My parents’. My grandparents’. My great-grandparents’. Distant relatives of whose place on the family tree I’m uncertain. (I framed a photo of my dad’s mother – in her 20s at the time – posing semi-nude on a coffee table, which I then hung above my dining room table. I show it to everybody!)

VHS cassettes of home movies shot in college. One of them was for a creative writing class; we had to write a screenplay and I co-opted my boyfriend and roommate into giving long monologues about sex, faith and death. (My favorite topics at the time.)

Letters. From my mother when I was a newborn, from my ex-husband shortly before he became my ex, from me to myself – intentionally tucked away knowing I’ll stumble across them later when I need them.

Journals from second grade on.

The journals in particular are profoundly important to me, which is why I was so touched and troubled by author Dominique Browning’s recent New York Times piece about burning her diaries.
Continue reading →

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To my fifth-grader, from my fifth-grade self

To whoever reads this notebook,

I don’t care if you laugh, cry, or even scream out loud from rage from reading this. I’ll try to write something new in it every day. This year is my first year of Junior High. I’m 12 years old and I love to argue.

So it says on the first page of a green, wide-ruled notebook I once fastened shut with a combination lock looped through two holes punched on the side. It is one of dozens of such journals I’ve saved, knowing even as I wrote them I’d one day want to remember all the small milestones of childhood.

Continue reading →

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What running does for writing

Sometimes what is right is not always what is rational.

Like tonight, when I ran right up until the minute the gym closed at 9 p.m., I should have driven straight home and eaten dinner.

Ok, I should have eaten dinner before I ran. And preferably something other than cereal or pretzels.

But at 7:45 I was hungry to run, and at 9:01 I was hopped up on endorphins.

So I drove instead. Continue reading →

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Gift of time

This morning I woke up an hour earlier than usual and gave myself time to:

  • Watch the sun rise. The sky is dark, then it’s gray, then it’s yellow, then it’s blue. Warm under a blanket, from my porch.
  • Start dinner. Split peas are soaking and ready for soup when I’m home from work.
  • Drink my own coffee. Not Starbucks. Not my coworker’s.
  • Walk around my garden. Take pictures of the blooms that weren’t there last night, but have magically appeared this morning.
  • Listen to music. Slow, soft. Sam Cooke, romantic Elvis. No need for anything drilling to get me going.
  • Write. In my journal. This post.

I can rarely buy time for myself in the mornings, but it’s such a gift when I do. How about you? What would you do with 60 minutes of extra solitude?